


How Claire Novak Found A Family

by IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, Claire is pregnant, Confused Castiel, Fluff, Gen, Humor, I Tried, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mentions of past prostitution, NOT MPREG I PROMISE, Pregnancy, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Delivers A Baby, Sam Winchester Has Regrets, and Castiel is Confused, and has a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26715997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt/pseuds/IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt
Summary: When the Winchesters and their angel rescue Claire, she's got a problem. Our ragtag little family in the bunker grows closer together as Dean tries to explain childbirth to Cas, and Sam really wishes he didn't have to do this.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	How Claire Novak Found A Family

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not my characters, not my show, I don't own anything except this computer and a tangerine.
> 
> This is my first work please don't hate me

Claire was, well, not exactly happy to be spending time in some creepy underground bunker with the fallen angel who’d hijacked her dad and a couple of supposed-to-be-dead serial killers, but she supposed it was better than where she had been previously.

There was just one problem: she couldn’t go to the hospital because as far as law enforcement and the legal system knew, she’d been kidnapped by her father. Who was actually the angel of Thursday, which made her slightly reluctant to sass him as much as she would an actual parent.

Claire had been about four months pregnant when Castiel had broken her out of her solitary confinement cell and led her past the probably-not-dead security guard to a souped up old junker she couldn’t believe was still running.

Then he’d taken her to the Men of Letters bunker, where she’d met Sam and Dean Winchester, whom she’d seen on the news multiple times. She’d screamed when she saw them. And pulled out her pocket knife (Castiel had confiscated her gun), and thrown it at Dean, who was closer. So sue her; she was scared.

Castiel had calmly guided her to a table in what looked like a library, and then gently sat Dean down across from her. He himself was at the end of the table, mediating. Sam had disappeared.

She demanded explanations, and they were given. She supposed that since Castiel was real, it made sense that all manner of other supernatural creatures were roaming around. Then she’d eaten a microwave dinner Sam had handed her, and disappeared into her new room to sleep for about two days.

When she emerged, Sam, who seemed to be a decent person, cornered her in the kitchen, awkwardly running his hands through his hair and fidgeting as she ate cereal.

She leveled a glare at him. “Spit it out.”

“Yeah! Yes. So. Uh. You’re, um, here. Living here. And, uh, you’re a girl. So, uh, I’m making a supply run tomorrow and I was wondering if you needed, um, products or anything?” He was tracing the grain of the wooden table and pointedly not looking at her. She sighed. This was going to be fun to explain. Then, interrupting his mutter of ‘like having a teenage daughter in the place’, she told him she was pregnant.

His eyebrows shot up, then formed into a truly magnificent bitchface. Claire ate another spoonful of cereal, hand unconsciously resting on her stomach. Sam stuttered out a few noises that might have once been words, finally managing “But you’re- you’re- how old are you anyway?”

“Seventeen.”

It was kind of adorable how genuine and earnest and open his face was. She decided she was okay with him being her uncle figure. Then a storm cloud descended upon his face and his eyes grew cold. “Whose kid is it?” 

Well, she didn’t particularly feel like telling him the circumstances that led to her being pregnant, and she said so. He gave her a soft look all wrapped up in caring concern, and clomped out of the kitchen.

Claire had finished her cereal and was washing her bowl when Dean walked up and handed back the pocketknife she’d thrown at him. She slipped it back into her pocket, awkwardly, and apologized for attempting to murder him. He waved it off. “You sure aren’t the first, and you probably won’t be the last. Now, for some reason Sammy thinks you need to talk about something, and he thinks you’re gonna talk to me. Want a beer?”

Oh boy. So she explained, yet again, that there was a tiny human growing in her and yes, she really did want a beer but it was probably best she didn’t have one. Dean looked at her steadily. “Whose is it? The father gonna come looking for you?”

Claire almost laughed. “The father doesn’t know it exists.” She put her cereal bowl in the cupboard and turned to go into the library. Dean stopped her with a gentle hand on her bicep.

“How, uh, I mean, how did you know him?”

She really didn’t want to answer that. She REALLY didn’t. But his green eyes were searching hers and he was obviously trying way too hard to give off trustworthy vibes, so whatever. “He was a loan shark. Came for Randy. Randy didn’t have money.”

Dean’s face gave approximately nothing away. His voice, though, was rougher than usual and hard as stone. “So Randy fucking sold you.”

“No! No. I offered. If the shark would consider that month paid off...” she trailed off, noticing Dean’s eyes sliding over her shoulder to fixate on the doorway.

A gravelly voice that used to belong to her father filtered through to her ears. “I will kill him.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Cas, buddy, about that. He’s already dead.” He turned to Claire. “That was the same dude we saved you from, right?” Claire nodded. “Right, then,” Dean continued, as her father’s gaze settled uncomfortably on her stomach, “I suppose if you’re staying here you’re gonna need to learn to hunt.”

And so for the next four months, Claire memorized exorcisms, practiced her shooting, and threw herself into learning all the lore Sam was so invested in. All three men in the Bunker refused point blank to let her accompany them on hunts, so usually Castiel would stay behind with her. Castiel was nice. He was kind, and patient, and never lost his temper like Randy had. And so over the months they gradually grew closer.

One morning at breakfast Claire grudgingly told him that he could never hope to replace her Dad, but maybe he could be like her uncle or something.

Then she pretended not to see the radiant, gummy smile that spread across his face.

She extended the same offer of uncle-hood to Sam and Dean, who both immediately swore to be her Bobby. She decided she didn’t really need to know any details about Bobby, since Sam’s eyes got suspiciously wet and shiny when she asked.

Before Claire knew it, she was eight months pregnant and it was Christmas. Various friends and acquaintances of the Winchesters came through the bunker, sometimes staying a night and sometimes not. One woman came for the week of New Year’s, and stirred up so much life Claire couldn’t help but get into the Christmas spirit.

Her name was Jody Mills, and she and Claire took great pleasure in cooking and baking together, putting up the tinsel Jody had brought, and playing pranks on Sam and Dean (then watching from the sidelines as the brothers blamed each other for their mishaps).

Claire was sad when Jody left, but they exchanged numbers and Jody walked back to her vehicle with a jaunty ‘Don’t be a stranger!” tossed over her shoulder.

\----------

In late January, shortly after they’d successfully gotten the Mark of Cain off of Dean’s arm and the three men were talking about retiring from the Apocalypse business and focusing on smaller hunts, Claire went into labor.

She’d been walking down the hall with Castiel, discussing the intricacies of removing an angel’s grace, when she felt a sharp stab of pain in her lower abdomen. She doubled over, groaning. Castiel braced a hand on her back and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. His voice, on the other hand, held a note of panic. “Claire? Is it the baby?”

“Do ya think?” Claire gritted out. She saw Castiel’s hand moving toward her forehead, and snapped “No! No angel mojo. You know I can’t stand seeing you do angel stuff in my dad’s body.”

Castiel, suitably chastened, started yelling for the Winchesters.

Sam was the first to arrive, skidding around the corner and nearly crashing into the opposite wall. Then he came to a complete halt. “The baby! Okay, yeah, we can do this. I’ve got fake papers for you, Claire, we can get you to a hospital.”

Claire, wincing against another contraction, shook her head. “The nearest hospital - oh fucking hell that hurt - is an hour and a half away. Chances are I’ll have the kid by then.”

Sam’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Are you sure? We can cut the time it’ll take. Dean would drive like a bat out of hell if he thought you were gonna have a baby in his Baby.”

Dean chose that moment to appear, having quite obviously been sharpening the cutlass dangling from his hand. “What’s goin’ on?”

Claire decided she’d be more comfortable not standing and awkwardly leaning on an Angel of the Lord while in labor with a child being born out of wedlock; it just seemed sacrilegious. She sank to the floor, and shook her head again. Then winced as another cramp washed over her. “Labor in my family is always short.”

“Okay,” Sam said, obviously trying to be soothing. Claire almost laughed at the thinly veiled panic apparent in every facet of his demeanor. “We’re gonna get you to your room, and I’m gonna call Jody.” Dean, looking extremely freaked out, shakily offered Claire a glass of water. She glared at him, and he retreated.

“Can you walk?” Castiel asked her, offering his hand. Claire took it, leveraging herself off the floor. Pain washed through her, and her knees buckled. Castiel caught her, picking her up gently and walking down the hall toward the bunker’s sickbay.

Claire rested her head against his shoulder. He smelled like laundry detergent and baking bread, like her father had used to. She sighed, happily, and then yelped as she felt something she decidedly didn’t like. Sam, who has shouldered past them to hold open the door, helpfully observed, “I think your water just broke.”

Claire lolled her head around to look at him. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” From behind her, she heard Dean give a poorly concealed snort of laughter.

Castiel gently lowered her onto a cot in the sickbay, then immediately took up a position in a chair by her side, stroking her sweaty hair gently. Claire leaned into the comforting touch, trying to ignore the pain lancing through her lower half. She was broken out of her mildly peaceful state by Sam standing over her and awkwardly fidgeting with his hands. He did that a lot, she thought aimlessly. “Uh, Claire? How do you want us to do this? Because someone is gonna have to, y’know, deliver the baby.”

Claire hadn’t really thought this far ahead. 

She wondered if it would’ve been better to go to a hospital, then dismissed the thought. The kid probably would’ve been born in the backseat of Dean’s car, and nobody would’ve been happy with that. Claire wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Sam, so she groaned in pain instead.

Through the speakers on Sam’s phone echoed Jody’s voice. Claire has never been happier to hear her. Trusting that Jody would take care of her, she turned her face once again toward Castiel’s comforting presence. Jody, over the phone, demanded that Sam tell her where they were and what was happening. Sam, trying very hard not to think about how he was probably going to be delivering a child quite soon, obliged. “All right, everyone. Listen up.” Jody, as was her wont, was taking charge. Thank god.

“Claire, sugar, you stay as relaxed as you can. Gonna need you to lose the pants, lie on your back, and bring your legs up. I’m sure you’ve seen it before in diagrams or on TV or something.”

Claire blushed, but followed the directions. Castiel, politely averting his eyes, drew a scratchy green blanket over her, draping it across her knees. She smiled her thanks at him, then grimaced. Her contractions were way closer together now. She decided to close her eyes. Castiel was lightly rubbing comforting circles on her abdomen, and she sought out his other hand to hold. Even with her eyes closed, she knew he was practically welling up with tears at the sign of affection from her. His hand squeezed hers, gently.

Jody, over the speakers, had a note of urgency in her voice. “You’re in sickbay. Good. Do you have anything for a local anesthetic injection? Or some type of opioid?” Claire groaned in pain and tossed her head on the pillow, trying to find a cool spot. Dear god, was this baby going to rip her insides apart? Castiel, noticing her discomfort, gently flipped the pillow over.

“Here!” Dean yelped, rushing over to the bed. Jody, after verifying that the stuff he’d found had been put there by the brothers and not sitting there since god knew when, talked him through setting up an IV with the morphine he’d unearthed. Within minutes, Claire felt her muscles relaxing and the pain faded into the background. Dimly, she heard Jody asking how far apart her contractions were.

Sam rested his hand on her stomach, feeling the muscles clench, counting off seconds in his head. “A little less than ten seconds,” he told Jody.

“Okay. Claire, honey, just stay calm. When you feel like you need to push, do it. Sam, get some gloves on and get down there.” Claire opened her eyes, unable to ignore the pain. Sam did as he was told, visibly paling. Jody, over the speakers, continued. “Dean, we’re gonna need some towels, some lukewarm water, and a clean blanket for the baby.”

Dean, always one to function better with a mission, scurried to the other side of the room and started rooting through cabinets. Claire, feeling the overwhelming need to push, did so. She also leaned her head toward Castiel, who resumed petting her hair and attempting to murmur platitudes, most of which fell flat. Oh well, at least he was trying.

Sam, from his position squinting fearfully between Claire’s legs, made a strange choking noise. “Uh, Jody? I think I can see the baby’s head?”

“Good,” came Jody’s calm voice. “Claire, you’re crowning. That’s a good thing. Keep pushing, you’re doing just fine.” Claire latched onto the words like a lifeline, the dulled but still very present pain lancing through her. Jody continued. “Sam, you’re gonna need to support the baby’s head as it comes out. Do not pull. Do not exert any pressure. Just support it.”

Sam, trying to respectfully look away, fumbled for a bit. “For the love of God, Sam,” Claire bit out, “that’s my thigh. You’re allowed to look at me, I won’t hold it against you.”

Sam turned a shade of red previously unachieved, and located the proper position for his hands. “Jody, there’s blood...?”

“That’s normal, Sam.”

“Jody, there’s blood! That’s not normal!”

“Sam, I promise you that is normal. Your job is to support the baby as it comes out. Calm down.” Sam calmed down - externally, at least. Dean, hovering around the bed anxiously, put a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned back into the touch. Claire would’ve laughed, if she wasn’t so busy whimpering in pain and pushing out a miniature human.

“Dean,” Castiel said, “I am not sure I understand something.”

Dean looked pathetically grateful for the chance to do something constructive. “Yeah, Cas, what’s up?”

“I do not think this is how my Father intended childbirth to work. Are you sure Claire is doing it properly?” Claire tried not to take offense at that, for all she knew she _wasn’t_ doing it properly.

Dean looked taken aback. “Uh. Well, I mean, I haven’t exactly seen a lot of births but yeah, this looks pretty textbook to me.”

At the other end of the bed, Sam scratched his cheek, leaving a bloody smear. He then looked horrified. Dean leaned over with a damp towel and wiped it away for him.

“But Dean, surely a child’s head is too large-“ Claire cut him off with a vicious squeeze to his hand. She didn’t really want to think about a child’s head ripping it’s way out of her.

Dean shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Uh, I think there’s something about how a woman’s body works when she goes into labor that lets it happen?” He looked like he was praying for an end to the questions.

Claire felt a sudden and unexpected lessening of the pressure inside her, and Sam let out a panicked squawk. “The head’s out!” Claire gasped in pain, then screamed. Dean, who had rushed to Sam’s side, suddenly looked very pale and sat down on the floor suddenly.

Jody’s ever calm voice cut through the melee. “That’s good. You’re almost done, Claire. Sam, keep the head and neck supported and level.” Sam nodded. Claire bore down, pushed again, and felt, suddenly, empty. Then she passed out.

As Claire went limp, Sam found himself holding possibly the smallest child he’d ever encountered. It - she, he noticed - was only a little bigger than his hand. But then, being as big as he was, his hands were pretty large. He considered the possibility that he was going into shock, which was why his mind was wandering. He was startled out of his reverie by the little girl letting out a sobbing wail. Dean gently reached over and wiped the baby’s face with a warm cloth, then placed her on Claire’s chest. He draped a small blanket over the baby, and stood back with a pleased smile on his face.

Claire blinked a couple of times, then stirred. One hand came gently up to rest on her daughter’s back. Then she heard Jody, talking Sam through cutting the umbilical cord. She wasn’t really paying attention, all of her focus was on the perfect, tiny face resting against her collarbone. One small, clenched fist waved weakly at her. Glancing over, she could see Castiel watching in awe. “Look, Cas,” she said, stroking her daughter’s back. “You’re a grandfather.” Castiel made a tiny, punched-out gasping noise, and his eyes welled up. Claire smiled softly at him.

Then Jody started up. “This is very sweet, I’m sure. You’re not done yet. Dean, give the baby a sponge bath. Be gentle. Honey, you’re still gonna have to deliver the placenta.”

Claire didn’t like the sound of that.

Jody talked Sam through laying a towel under Claire, then told them there would shortly be a gush of blood. About fourteen minutes after her daughter was born, Claire felt it. So did Sam, who had been frantically Googling information.

They both informed Jody that it had happened, in slightly panicked voices. Dean, gently holding the newly cleaned baby, winced as he saw the carnage on the previously clean towel. “Claire, are you feeling okay?” he asked.

Claire shook her head, then felt the urge to push again. “Oh - okay, okay, I think that’s it.” Sam, still positioned between her legs, informed her.

Cas, she supposed she could call him Cas since she’d appointed him grandpa to her child, queried “Dean? Are you quite sure it’s safe for Claire to lose that much blood?”

Dean, who had been cooing at the child, peered at Sam’s Google search results and nodded. “Yeah, says here it’s coming from the uterus. No important blood vessels leaking or anything.” Cas nodded, but didn’t look convinced. Sam announced that the placenta was out, and that someone needed to firmly massage Claire’s stomach to slow the bleeding.

As Cas did so, Claire fell asleep, exhausted. She didn’t hear Jody talking Sam through administering a local injection and stitching her up, or Dean softly singing ‘Hey Jude’ to a snoozing child, or Cas whispering into her hair that he was going to be the best grandfather possible, thank you so much, Claire, for giving me this.

She was, however, present and nursing little Mary, for the conversation that started with “Dean, is this what happens when the babysitter lets the pizza man slap her rear?” and ended with Cas being banned from pay-per-view for the foreseeable future.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If anyone every reads this and wants a timestamp I'll do it just shoot me a comment :)


End file.
